Category Archives: Memories

Coma Music

My lovely wife and I have discussed how to decide if “I am still present” should I slip into a non-medically induced coma. What we decided was for me to put together a playlist that would get to me through a deep fog.

Baby, put some headsets on me and crank it up.

I figure if I can tap my left foot at 2 and 4, I’m still present. If not , well I’m probably not home anymore.

This is what I came up with:

Blood Sweat & Tears- “You Made Me So Very Happy”

Joe Bonamassa- “Let the Good Times Roll”

Joe Bonamassa – “Boogie Woogie Woman”

Katie Webster- “CQ Boogie”

Joe Bonamassa – “Ole Time Religion”

Asleep at the Wheel- “Route 66”

Jackie Brenston- “Rocket 88”

Chuck Berry- “Maybellene”

Amos Milburn- “Chicken Shack Boogie”

Brian Setzer Orch.- “Rock This Town”

Any suggestions? Leave ’em in the comments.







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1968 Mustang vs Icicle

So there I am, snoozing away having worked a swing shift that included working on 2 red- lined F-106s. 1 down for no data-link and 1 down for unstable MA1 computer. In February. In Rome N.Y. Yeah they were in the hangers, but it was still COLD. I’m a Southern boy bred and born; besides my last duty station was in the sunny, tropical climes of Vietnam. (I should’ve known something was up when they special-issued me Arctic winter clothing.)

Sawing logs, Bang!Bang!on the door to our apartment. Checked the time, it’s O-dark early. Mumble, mumble. I answer the door to the Staff Sergeant who lives on the 3rd floor. “What”? (I may have been less than gracious). He wants me to help move a large ice chunk out of the driveway so he can go to work.

We trek downstairs, and he’s right, there is a large ice chunk blocking the driveway. It’s in the driveway because it has fallen from the eves of the house (3 stories) landed on my ’68 Mustang. Smashed the passenger side of the roof almost flat to the dashboard, windshield busted, mangled the right front fender, the right side of the hood, and caused other fiddly bits of mayhem. I stand there mouth agape and the Staff Sgt says with an apparent lack of irony: “Looks like your car got some damage out of that.”  We had to get an axe to break-up the monster icicle to clear the driveway.

The Mustang was insured with a broker in Arkansas. You know where this is going right? Called the agent at home bright and early his time. “Say bud, I’ve had an icicle fall on the Mustang and I need to make a claim.” “What? (He joined the less than gracious crowd). An icicle? What, did it scratch the paint? Har Har.” I ‘splained it to him…I had a mental image of him standing there in his Arkansas Razorback PJs, mouth agape…I liked that image. Heh.

Got all that out of the way, local agent says to call wrecker and take it to Riolo’s Body Shop down on Black River Drive. OK. Get dressed, and ride with the tow truck to the body shop; I’m going to need a loaner to drive while they look at the damages. Yeah they have loaners, insurance will pick-up the cost, but I’m responsible for the gas, oil, etc. I should have negotiated that better. The car I got was a ’68 Rambler that burned transmission fluid like a wino burns MD 20/20.

This was in February. Insurance decided to fix it not total it.  Good deal, probably less hassle. Wrong! First they had to order parts. Then some of the parts arrive, but in the wrong order. Apparently one can not just willy-nilly replace body parts except in a certain sequence? Who knew? Then the new fender gets run over. I never got a good answer for that. Reorder. Meanwhile, this Rambler I’m using is costing beaucoup bucks in transmission fluid.

Actual home in which my apt was located in Rome NY. Our kitchen looked out of the bay windows in front.

An example of our ’68 ‘Stang.

Finally, on the 14th of April I pick-up the repaired Mustang. They had done an excellent job of restoring that beauty. All that and the cost was less than $700.00.  Of course those are 1970 dollars and equal to about 1&1/2 times my monthly pay as a lowly E-4, but I only owed the deductible of $100.00. Yay Insurance.

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Old Bombers @ Kingman AZ

H/T: Old NFO blog post.
“Historic pics from Kingman in 1947-48 as all the bombers were destroyed…As you watch, take a look at the numbers of bombing missions these birds survived, and how many were patched in various ways and places!”
It is a sad, but noble journey. The aircraft weren’t needed any longer, so they were stripped, crushed and recycled to make consumer goods. People were tired of the war and having to do without, so these proud and stalwart defenders of freedom gave up their materials-again- for the ones for whom they fought.
I know, I know. I’m imbuing feelings on an inanimate machine– still—.
Also notice the nose art; those young men knew what they were fighting for;) winking


Filed under Guns, Memories, WWII

Doc Collins Part III

This took place :  “After returning to England for further training, the Division hit Utah Beach on 10 June 1944 (D plus 4) , cut off the Cotentin Peninsula, drove on to Cherbourg and penetrated the port’s heavy defenses.” From Combat Chronicle@

Also see:


Doc was relaxing when the platoon Sgt hollered for him to come on. The Sgt was discarding his weapons and told Collins to put down his weapons and grab his medical kit. As they were walking away from the company area Sgt Ohlinsky told Collins his plan was to go up the hill and see what the Germans were up to. “Doc”, he said, “you just follow my lead and we’ll be fine.” Collins thought, “This ought to be interesting.”

The hill had been blasted clear of trees, nothing there but scrub and dirt and lots of craters. They slogged on up the hill knowing that the Germans had them under their sights. Even with the iron sights of the K98 Mauser the Krauts couldn’t miss them. About 50 feet from the top they were told to halt. Four Germans came forward casually holding their weapons. A German Sgt spoke and asked what they were doing on this hill. Ohlinsky said,” Well, my medic here wanted to offer you any help or medicine that you needed, and I wanted to tell you that you have a chance to save your men from further death and destruction. About 2 or 2:30 this hill is scheduled to be bombed to dust and there is no place you and your brave men can go; there is water behind you and our division on the other 2 sides of this hill.” Collins had given the medical kit to another German and was listening to the Sgt tell what Collins thought was a big lie. The German Sgt looked at Collins as if to confirm what this brash American was saying, Collins looked him square in the eyes and said, “We just got the word about an hour ago. Since you can’t escape, the war for you will be over one way or another. You can save your men; there doesn’t have to be anymore killing on this hill.”

Collins and the Sgt started back down the hill, the Germans made no move to stop them. After they got back to the Company area they finally looked back and the Germans were trooping down the hill under a white flag, tossing their guns aside. As the Germans got to the company area the G.I.s started getting them into rank order. About an hour later around 2:00 p.m. a flight of P-47s flew over and started pounding the hill, the Germans started whooping and hollering and shaking the American’s hands and grinning like  possums eating briars. The Americans were surprised and started handing out cigarettes and chocolate. No one was more surprised than Doc Collins though. He found the Sergeant and asked him if he knew the planes were really coming. Sarge winked and said, “Sometimes things just work out for the best.”

Altogether they captured about 200 German soldiers and saved lives on both sides.

Part II here.  Part I here.

Republic P-47  Thunderbolt.  Picture source.

More to come. I’ll  do more battles  and his time as a POW of the Germans.

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Filed under Fabricated from True Tales, Memories, Step-Father, WWII

Neptunus Lex, RIP

One wonders about the influence one has on other people and whether that influence is good or bad or any at all. Let me say that one should wonder about that, but some people don’t (or can’t).

I was an infrequent reader of the milblog Neptunus Lex, written by a retired naval aviator. The postings by Lex were always well written, enjoyable and usually insightful. He had a certain lyrical prose  especially when writing about flying.

Captain LeFon was killed yesterday in a crash while landing his aircraft. The blog site opened a thread for tribute and condolences. When I first looked at it there were over400 comments, I just checked: there are now over 800 comments. Most of them (that I have read) seem to share a common theme. They speak of knowing Lex although most never actually met him. They express a loss, though most have never met him. Some speak eloquently, some simply, but most speak of somehow being influenced by Lex.

No great moral lesson or great insight here, just an acknowledgement of the truth that what we say and how we conduct our lives influences others, either for good or not.

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Doc Collins Part 1

Doc Collins tried not to cuss as a habit. He could cuss in at least 2 languages, as a native Choctaw speaker he was fluent in the native curses and the transliterated cuss words of English. He also spoke English pretty well.

If he was going to cuss this was the time. He was belly down in the hot dry dirt watching his “boys” get chewed up by German machine gun fire, and he was ticked off. Collins was a medic with the U.S. Army 9th division “Old Reliable” and it was his responsibility to keep his boys alive.

The 9th had sailed directly from the States into this invasion (Operation Torch)they arrived at Port Lyautey, French Morocco on Sunday 8 November 1942. They had to take the port while under artillery fire from the defenders, but the Navy came through with wave after wave of carrier based aircraft and that was all the “legs” needed to succeed.

Ranger plane handlers push an SBD Dauntless dive-bomber into takeoff position after it has just landed from a strike on French North Africa.

After the Germans temporarily disengaged, Collins started checking on his boys. He saw LC Toffey writhing on the ground. “Where are you hurt?” Collins yelled. The Col said,”something is wrong with my knee”. Hustling over Collins saw that most of Toffey’s knee was shot off. He dressed the wound and administered morphine. The Col asked Collins to get him out of there, so Doc got him in a fireman’s carry and quit the battlefield. While carrying the Col back to safety about 300 yards away to a railroad bank, the Germans started in again with mortars and machine gun fire. “We gonna make it?”  Toffey asked. Doc told him “you better believe it”. After getting over the bank,  Collins found the rest of company, along with Gen Eddy and Gen Patton.

Gen Eddy and Gen Patton talked to LC Toffey while Collins worked on some other wounded. After Patton found out how the Colonel was taken off the battlefield, he came over to Collins, slapped him on the back and told him “That’s the way to win a war! Just show them you’ve got the guts to”.  Collins found out later that the Generals had come back to eyeball where Patton was going to try to run his armor through.

More to come. I’ll try to give some background on Doc’s early years, and subsequent battles and his time as a POW of the Germans.

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Filed under Fabricated from True Tales, Memories, Step-Father, WWII